Former Special Agent Reid
by lostintranslationagain
Summary: Reid is left deaf and blind after an unsub takes his revenge. Each chapter describes Former Special Agent Reid's new life, in no particular chronological order.
1. Chapter 1

2014

Agent Reid, former Agent Reid, finds it hard to leave his apartment these days. He still meets and consults with the team on Mondays, thanks to the rather expensive and rather necessary interpreter they get for him. On Tuesday's he goes to therapy, which he finds about as helpful as the arts and crafts they make his mom do even though she is suffering from schizophrenia, not reversion to her childhood.

Wednesdays are his favorite day. Breakfast with Will, Henry, and Angie and sometimes JJ, depending on how the team is doing. Hotch usually let's her leave if they aren't busy. There is nothing more important to Reid than his god-children.

Well, almost. In truth, his Thursday's hold something even more important: normalcy. On Thursday's the team usually works late so that if there is a chance to escape at 4:30 on Friday they can without a mound of paperwork standing in their way. Thursdays Morgan picks up Reid in the afternoon and the whole team spends the evening together working, laughing, eating Chinese food. Reid doesn't usually know what's going on in the conversation unless someone can spare their hands to explain, but his whole life he has let conversations flow around him without understanding them. It's the nearness of his friends he enjoys, it's what he has always enjoyed. It's normal, and he relishes that.

Fridays are usually boring. He writes his mom, reads books, and rarely ventures out of his apartment. He used to spend so much time out of his apartment that he was once reported as a missing person by his landlord. Now he leaves exactly one time a day, whether it be for therapy, or with Morgan to the office, or to meet Will, Angie, and Henry at the cafe.

Former special agent Reid grabs his red and white striped cane and heads out the door. Rubber cased key is for the front door. He locks it tight and double checks: paranoia runs rampant in his mind. Reid takes the 8 steps down easily then tentatively reaches out his cane. Two blocks and he will be at the bus stop.

Crossing the street takes an eternity. He has no idea if a vehicle is coming until he can feel it. If he caused a crash right behind him he might not know. It makes him paranoid and he almost wants to double back to check if there is car carnage behind him. But he doesn't; that would be illogical.

He easily takes the next block and the next crosswalk. Streets are pretty quiet at 5 am. The bus will come at 5:15 and drop him off at 6:30. He will meet Garcia for their walk to their beloved office at Quantico.

Reid makes it to the bus stop early and pulls out his Braille computer with its refreshable display. He has a book saved which would have taken ten minutes to read several years ago. Now it takes a day. Braille is easy for him, but there is no such thing as speed reading. Reid types in "is this the number 4 to Quantico?" just as the bus pulls up.

Reid uses his cane to find the bus and then heads toward where he hopes the door is. He finds it and climbs the steps. He has no idea how many people are on the bus, how many people are staring at the way his body tilts or the way he holds his Braille reader way too far to the right to give to the bus driver (or the fact that he needs a Braille computer at all).

The driver takes the reader and reads the note. He types in "yep- third row is empty. Good morning Reid." he places it in Reid's waiting outstretched hand.

Reid grabs it and presses a button. The refreshable display pops up dots in the cells and he reads the driver's message. "Good morning, Jimmy," Reid says, his voice quiet and rounded at the sharp consonants. He tries to pronounce them how he is taught at therapy but he knows he gets it wrong. And he doesn't really care, to be honest. As long as his friends can understand him. As long as Henry can understand. And as long as his mother never comes to visit. This is the one and only reason he is grateful for his mother's institutionalization.

Jimmy pats Reid on the back as Reid slowly walks to the third row. He reaches out a hand to confirm the seat is empty. He know Jimmy wouldn't steer him wrong, but paranoia makes him, well, paranoid.

6:30am. Jimmy comes back and taps him on the shoulder. "Thanks," Reid mumbles and gets off the bus. A familiar hand wraps around his arm almost instantly.

"Good morning Reid!" Garcia says, planting a kiss on his cheek. He can't hear it but he knows she said something because her lips were still moving until the moment before they grazed his cheek. She lifts her hands into his and signs "good morning sweet cheeks."

Reid can't help but smile. Since he woke up in complete isolation, at least the first time he can remember waking up, there hasn't been a day that his friends haven't been able to put a smile on his face (that is, after he let them come near him). They often ask him how he's doing. It's a pointless question. He says he is fine every time. They laugh and shake their heads, or so he assumes. People do that when they think he is being "so Reid," out of touch with his emotions as always.

Really, he will always be just fine if his friends are around. He feels the closeness of Garcia as he walks through the front doors of Quantico, his hand wrapped around her upper arm. And Reid can't help but smile again.

He can't see, he can't hear much, but he is just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I wanted to explain a few things before this story. Because it is set in 2020, life has changed a bit for our favorite characters. As this progresses, some of the changes will be explained through Reid's story.

2020

"Mommy?"

JJ quickly turns off the monitors adorning an entire wall of her office as her daughter pokes her head in. The images of the BAU's newest case resolve to a black screen. "I need you to stay with Spence right now," JJ says sweetly, but her voice is urgent.

"He's in the bathroom."

"And you know he's going to be really worried if he comes back and you're gone," JJ points out. Her daughter, Angie, gasps as her eyes widen. She scampers away, down the mezzanine staircase and runs into a conference room. JJ watches as she narrowly misses Spencer Reid's legs. Reid pauses, feeling the rush of wind made by the child, and frowns. JJ smiles. Angie's busted.

No sooner does JJ turn the monitors back on than Hotch comes into her office. "Are you ready?" he asks.

Her answer doesn't really matter, but she gives him a smile anyways. "I'll meet you in the conference room."

JJ grabs her computer and heads to the conference room next to where Angie and Reid are hanging out. As she passes, she steals a look through the window. Angie smiles and waves. Reid is reading a book, she assumes, on his own computer. He reaches out a hand for Angie and she slips her small hand in his. She's supposed to touch him every few minutes so that he knows she is safe. It's a system that would work well if she weren't 8 and he weren't so absentminded. JJ isn't worried though. Reid wasn't disabled when she named him Henry's god-father. And his disabilities didn't matter when she asked him to be Angie's god-father as well. She smiles as she thinks about that night.

The case is a gruesome one. Hotch even looks sick as JJ and Garcia click through the pictures. Morgan and Lanie talk about their gut instincts. Hotch and Rossi sketch out a preliminary profile. It's a standard sexual sadist case, unusual only because the victimology has no discernable pattern.

Thankfully, they have a genius consultant.

Morgan only has to go next door to get Reid. Even after ten years, his sign language is limited to a few common phrases but he has the quickest fingerspelling out of everyone on the team. He taps Reid on the shoulder, twice (not too little, but not too much or else Reid gets annoyed) and when Reid puts out his hands, Morgan lifts his under Reid's palms.

"Hard case," Morgan spells out. "Help?" Punctuated with a big question mark drawn in the air.

Reid only needs the touch of Morgan's hands to know who is asking. Reid answers, his voice soft and rounded, muddled. "Of course. Angie?" He lets go of Morgan and waits until he feels the tiny hands of his god-daughter. He squeezes them gently then signs to her, "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Angie signs back something Morgan doesn't catch but it satisfies Reid because Reid reaches out for Morgan's elbow. Reid would rather die than have something happen to Angie or Henry on his watch.

In reality, the "watching" is more mutual. Angie is only 8, but she leads Reid and interprets for him. Morgan has seen her help him order food at resturants, find the right people in a crowded room, and locate braille signs on walls.

When Angie was five, she and Reid were playing on the playground. JJ was nearby with Henry at his baseball practice; the field was seperated from the playground by a small road. As the pair headed over to watch Henry's practice, Angie flung her arms out, hitting Reid's knees. She didn't know much sign language at the time and being five, spelling was all but out of the question. So Reid leaned down and listened to her shout in his ear – "You have to look both ways before you cross the street!"

"I can't see, Angie," Reid had told her after comprehending her sentence after several tries. "Everyone should always look both ways, but I can't."

"Can you see me?" Angie had signed the simple words.

The admission had been painful. "No. I can't do what other people can, remember?."

"You aren't worse," she had signed. "You're the same. But I'll look for you anyways."

After his injuries were found to be decidedly permanent, Reid had cut off all communication with his friends. He had been especially terrified of JJ and Henry. Henry was 4; Reid wished he could have died, leaving Henry's memories of him (as few as they would undoubtedly be) untarnished. Instead, JJ had forced her way through the hospital staff and placed an angry Reid's hand on her stomach.

"It's a girl," she had traced into the palm of his hand. "You better get started on rehab. She'll be here in 7 months and I want you to be the god-father."

Reid's hand is placed on the back of an empty chair in the conference room and he takes a seat. He assumes the whole team is assembled. He feels Garcia's hands in his as she fills him in on the case. The sexual sadist seemed to focus in on the binding of the victims' ankles and feet. Reid suggests they may have all been wearing a similar shoe, probably expensive with a tall heel, at the time of their abductions. Stripping them of their expensive shoes probably brought satisfaction to the unsub.

"The unsub is probably poor or was wronged by high class society. He feel's second class and looked down upon. The unsub is also short and enjoys stripping these women of their height by taking their high heels, which in his mind strips them of their power," Reid profiles.

The team discusses; Garcia attempts to translate but can't. Reid can't help but smile as he gets fragmented sentences that don't make much sense stranded together. Finally, he feels, "Bingo baby." Garcia squeezes his hands.

Oh no. He isn't "worse" at all. Maybe not the same. But not worse. Not with Angie looking out for Reid. And not with Reid looking out for his team.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the kind words, reviews, and story/author alerts and favorites. I appreciate them! There are several more stories I want to write in this series. If there are any stories you, the reader, want to read, please let me know!

2015.

Throughout his years in the BAU, Hotch has studied his share of victims. Most are dead, some have died since their case closed, and the handful that are still alive keep him going in this job. He is used to staring into the haunting eyes of the deceased. He is used to cutting through the lucky few survivors' hysteria to find the facts he needs for the profile.

Hotch will never, in all his future years at the BAU, be able to erase the memories of the Douglas Howard case. He will never forget the way Douglas Howard's victim looked so still when they found him. He will never forget the deep feelings of rage left over by Foyet that were suddenly forced to a boiling point. And he will never forget the dread that overtook him when he looked into the victim's lifeless eyes.

Or shouted his name.

"Reid… we're here!"

Reid had been so still, propped up like a doll against the wall. Once the whole team had tumbled into the basement (once they knew where Reid was there wasn't one who was willing to fall back and check the rest of the house), the whole room became still. It couldn't have been for more than a second that the team was shocked to a halt, just enough time to sear the memory into the minds of the BAU.

Morgan had broken the stillness first, followed closely by JJ. He ran to Reid and placed two fingers on his radial pulse. Reid immediately jerked away at Morgan's touch, scaring Morgan more than Reid.

They had thought he was unconscious.

Hotch plays that memory in his mind every time he sees Reid. Every time Reid tentatively crosses a room, tightly clutches onto Hotch's elbow, or waits to be served food when the team orders Chinese, Hotch feels his stomach clench like it did three years ago when he realized that Reid wasn't unconscious – he simply hadn't heard them come in.

Every time Reid struggles to understand a conversation, profiles incorrectly because he can't see the evidence, or has to explain yet again to a new pissant agent that he didn't get lost and accidentally wander into Quantico… every time, Hotch's heart aches like it did when he realized that Reid hadn't seen them come into that basement.

Five days. Five whole, terrifying days. Hotch had told himself so many times that Reid had survived Tobias Henkel and now they would find Reid again, he would recover, pass a psych eval, and then be back on the jet. It had taken Hotch, practical, stoic Hotch, nearly three months after finding Reid to admit that that would never be reality. He hired Lanie. The team was reluctant but eventually warmed to her, Morgan especially.

Hotch is reminded of the Douglas Howard case every day. He will never be able to erase the memories.

It's Reid's birthday today. The entire team is celebrating in Reid's apartment. JJ and Garcia decorated a cake. It's a decorating disaster, a mix between JJ's class and Garcia's gaudiness. Garcia gives Reid the guided tour as his fingers ghost over springs and pom poms sticking out of the cake like a Dr. Seuss drawing. Reid has a huge smile on his face as he "accidentally" gets his fingers full of frosting and licks it off like a child. Garcia has to wait impatiently until Reid is done licking his fingers to reprimand him and Reid milks the moment. When he finally holds out his now sticky hands to cover hers, he can feel her choppily sign something about the empress of information technology getting revenge.

Morgan gets a lot of teasing for the present he got for Reid, but its only because of how insanely thoughtful it is. It's a 3D model of the molecule C8H10N4O2. It only takes Reid a second to figure out what he is holding. Another big smile.

"Caffeine," Reid says. Everyone is impressed by Reid's IQ, but Reid is impressed by Morgan and the thoughtfulness of the gift. He puts the caffeine molecule on his kitchen table as a centerpiece as everyone sits around the table sipping coffee. It's awkward, scientific, and only really funny in an ironic way if your IQ is 187 – classic Reid.

And as they sit, drinking coffee way later at night than they should be, Hotch is reminded of a time they were in New York so long ago, sitting around a table at a Chinese restaurant. They had chatted about serial killers knowing that it was their one safe topic: impersonal but interesting. Rehashing serial killer stories was the team's version of talking about the weather.

Elle's death had brought them closer together, but it was Reid's injury that forced them to band together to catch their fallen teammate. Haley's death had brought them to the support of Hotch, but it was Reid's injury that taught the team to support one another. Reid had been forced to be vulnerable, dependant, and everything that each member of the BAU fought so hard not to be. They had each opened up to Reid, and consequently to each other, to help Reid feel less alone. And they never closed themselves off again.

Now, as conversations swirl around him about Henry and Will, Morgan's most embarrassing moment, the new guy Garcia thinks she's in love with, and what happens when Rossi drinks too much vodka, Hotch can't help but think of the Douglas Howard case.

Amidst the heartbreak, Hotch smiles.

He's seen his share of victims at the BAU. Some are dead, some have died since their cases closed. The handful that are alive keep him going.

And some don't seem like victims at all.


End file.
